


not so little after all

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura (Voltron)-centric, Bad Flirting, Diplomatic meetings, Gen, Politics, allura is awesome, coran is quietly supportive, outer space politics, specifically: lance's bad flirting, there's a war going on people, this can be read as lance/allura if u want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 02:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: How to successfully create an alliance: bluff your way through a diplomatic meeting. It helps if you're afraid.





	not so little after all

**Author's Note:**

> im lov allura ok ?

Doing something scary once doesn’t mean you stop being afraid of it. This is something Allura has to face almost every day; every time she sends the paladins out on a dangerous mission, every battle she participates in, every diplomatic meeting she’s at the head off, is terrifying. 

That fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. If she weren’t afraid, she wouldn’t hesitate to do something reckless - and that something could cost them the alliance they’ve fought so hard to attain. Fear is what makes her think twice before she says anything stupid, which is exactly what she needs in the sort of high risk situations she finds herself in near daily. 

A knock at the door interrupts her musing. “Princess? Are you almost ready?” Coran’s voice calls from outside. “Lance and I are waiting to escort you.”

Allura sighs, smooths out the wrinkles in her dress, and opens the door. She can’t keep hiding in her bedroom all day like a child. “I’m ready,” she says, meeting Coran’s twinkling eyes. She leans in some and lowers her voice, making sure Lance, who is slouching against the wall little ways down the hall, can’t hear her. “Just… do we really have to bring Lance to escort us? I realize Shiro is injured, but…”

Somehow, Coran manages to look disapproving without moving a single facial muscle. “I realize you don’t think too highly of him, Princess, but Lance is the best option currently available to us.” He’s using his _I am an adult and I know what’s best_ voice, so Allura doesn’t waste time arguing with him, instead striding over to Lance. He straightens up as soon as he sees her, eyes widening. 

“ _Wow_ ,” he breathes, and Allura braces herself for the flirting that’s about to follow. “That dress looks really good on you. I bet it’d look better off-”

“Let’s go, Coran,” she says, walking past Lance without a second glance at him. She can hear his indignant squeak from behind her, but it doesn’t take long until he follows too, falling into step beside her instead of behind, the way Shiro always does. 

He leans over to her, smirking slightly. Allura does her best not to catch his eye. “You know,” Lance drawls, “ignoring your personal guard doesn’t seem like something royalty would do, my Queen.”

Unbidden, a blush rises to Allura’s face. This is exactly the reason she didn’t want Lance escorting her on this mission - not the fear that he’ll ruin fragile alliances with his flirting, not that he isn’t as watchful as Shiro, no, it's _this_. Calling her a queen. He started doing it a couple quintents ago, seemingly for no reason. Allura had, to say the least, not been very happy with it. 

The first time he did it was during dinner, and Allura dropped her spoon on her plate with a loud clatter. Everybody quieted down, then, no doubt waiting for her reaction before giving their own. Allura hadn’t known how to react to it, so she choose to ignore the title and let the dinner pass in an awkward silence. Lance hadn’t stopped calling her queen, though, and Allura hadn’t gotten any better at dealing with being called a queen. It didn't help that she was still convinced this was another one of his stupid attempts at flirting with her. 

Lance heaves a dramatic sigh. “Especially not if her personal guard happens to be as handsome as-”

“Be quiet, Lance.” Allura shoots him a look, shutting him up almost immediately. The door outside looms before them. Only a few seconds are left before they step outside and Allura will have to face the masses. “We can’t have the other leaders hearing you make fun of me. They’ll see it as a sign of weakness.”

She looks over at him again, expecting to see him laughing it off like he always does when she calls him out on his behavior. What she doesn’t expect is to see him look stricken, as if she had just greatly insulted him. 

Lance blinks at her, all innocence. For once, it doesn’t seem to be an act. “You think I was making fun of you?” he actually sounds shocked, as if the idea was completely laughable. “I wasn’t! It’s just- That’s what you are, isn’t it? The Queen?”

“I-” Allura pauses to get her thoughts in a row. It’s unbecoming of a princess to stammer. “What are you talking about?” The words come out harsher than she meant them to. It’s not surprising; she’s about to go to an important meeting and under a lot of stress already. Lance being… well, his usual confusing self, is exactly what she _doesn’t_ need right now. 

“I know this may be difficult to accept, but,” Lance takes a deep breath in, “your father is dead. That makes you the Queen of Altea, doesn’t it?”

Before Allura properly has time to process what he said, Coran has grabbed her by the arm. “Princess,” he murmurs, voice and face equally unreadable. There’s no telling what he thinks about what Lance said, or if he even heard it. “It’s time to go.”

Allura takes a moment to collect herself, then says, “Yes, of course. I’m ready.”

She definitely doesn’t feel anywhere near ready, but the first thing a princess learns is how to fake a smile convincingly.

-

“Zarkon is defeated!” Erjun booms. He’s the leader of the Jurgigans, a species of large bipeds with rough, scale-like skin. Though all Jurgigans are large, Erjun is especially so. Allura has to fight not to flinch when he slams his fists on the table. “There is no reason for us to fight this war anymore!” His voice reverberates throughout the hall. Murmurs of agreement echo after his words. Allura clenches her hands into fists beneath the table, trying not to let her frustration show on her face. 

Veen, the spokesperson for the Bibalian people, leans forward, elbows on the table. The Bibalians are a telepathic species. During diplomatic meeting such as this, the thought and opinions of all their people are transmitted to one of their chosen spokespeople. When Veen speaks, they truly do speak for their entire kind. “Need you be reminded that Princess Allura is the reason you and yours _survived_ this war?”

Before Allura can feel relief at the Bibalian people’s support, the host of their gathering, Pam the Undefeated, queen of a race of warrior people named the Mozians and possibly their strongest ally, interjects. “Her, and those beasts she calls allies.”

Inwardly, Allura bristles. Outwardly, her voice remains composed, if a little sharper than usual. “The Blade of Marmora helped us defeat Zarkon, and they intend to keep supporting us now that Prince Lotor has seized power-”

“And who is to say they aren’t lying?” A wave of murmurs starts up, making it almost impossible to hear Pam over the din. “They may have been working for Lotor this entire time, helping you only to betray you now that their chosen prince has come to power.”

Allura dare not respond immediately, lest too much of her anger shines through in her voice. A tense silence falls, broken only when Veen hesitantly speaks up. “This is a possibility.”

Pam scoffs. “A possibility? It’s a certainty. Galra cannot be trusted,” she says with finality. A roar of approval sweeps through the hall. 

Riding on the wave of support his side has gotten, Erjun says, “The Undefeated Queen is right! The Blade of Marmora, as you call them, is not to be trusted.” He smiles condescendingly. Allura clenches her fists so hard her nails dig into the skin of her palms. “Rest assured, we do not blame you for your alliance with them. You are still inexperienced, and hardly a good judge of character, as to be expected of a young princess-”

“In fact,” Allura cuts in, straightening her back. Lance’s words run in circles through her head. “I am a queen.”

Tense silence follows her proclamation. Allura is certain she has shocked the other leaders enough for them to finally listen to her, but then Pam’s mouth draws into a satisfied smirk. “And what a queen you are,” she says. One of her four arms sweeps around the hall, gesturing at all that is hers. All the jewels and finery, all the things she has gained over her many years of rule. The people in the hall, only one of which is Altean. “A queen of nothing.”

Queen of nothing, indeed. All her people are dead, her planet destroyed. Pam is right; Allura hardly has any right to call herself a princess anymore, let alone a queen. She should never have listened to Lance in the first place. The current paladins of Voltron are hardly diplomats-

A small smile curls her lips as an idea forms in her head. “You forget that Voltron is still mine. That, at least, I am queen of.”

Pam’s lips draw into a tight line. Allura fights the urge to smirk victoriously. “Am I not the one who led us to Zarkon’s defeat? Is it not _my_ paladins who defeated him? Did I not personally defeat Haggar, one of Zarkon’s most powerful allies? Am I not the one responsible for your planet’s _freedom_?” She pauses, just long enough for the words to sink in, but not long enough for anyone to respond. “You may think me too young, or inexperienced-” with this, she looks at Erjun. Instead of meeting her eyes, he looks down. “- but I have proven my worth.

“Your people,” Allura says, standing up and gesturing at the people gathered in the hall. Jurgigans, Bibalians and Mozians alike shuffle around awkwardly as her gaze sweeps across them. “Are only safe due to my protection, but I cannot keep protecting you forever. Zarkon may be defeated, but there is a new threat on the rise, and he will come for you.” She leans her hands on the table, leaning forward a little to catch the eyes of everyone gathered at the table. Of the three, only Veen freely meets her gaze. “He will come for _us. All_ of us.

“Lend me your help in the fight against Prince Lotor, and we will be able to defeat him before his power grows to be too much for us. No longer will you have to live in fear. No longer will you have to live under my protection.” Allura drops her voice, as if she is speaking privately to the other leaders, instead of holding a speech in a public hall full of people. “You can be _free_.”

After she’s finished speaking, Allura stands still, breathing heavily. Not a word is spoken in the hall. It's quiet long enough that Allura starts to doubt herself. Was her outburst too much? Has she ruined any chance of getting help? She almost wants to sit down, defeated, when something her father told her comes to mind. _Never give up if you still have a chance._

“Well?” She demands, hoping desperately that her fear and anxiety doesn’t show in her voice.

Whispers fill the hall around her, but Allura is only focussed on the three leaders at the table in front of her. Most importantly, she is focussed on the slow smile slowly spreading across Veens face. “You have a point, Prin- ah. Forgive me,” their smile grows wider, “ _Queen_ Allura. You have the Bibalian peoples' support. We will stand with you in this fight, that we swear.”

“Thank you,” Allura says, fighting not to fall down to her knees and sob in relief. “Your support is much appreciated. We will not take this gift for granted.”

To her left, Erjun harrumphs. “That is all well and good,” he says, “but this doesn’t solve the issue of the Blade of Marmora. I still believe they can’t be trusted.”

Allura turns to look at him, much more confident now that she at least has the support of one of the species represented in this meeting. She places her right hand over her chest, over her heart. “You have my word, as queen of Altea, that the Blade of Marmora can be trusted.” Meeting his eyes directly, she tries her hand at the same condescending smile he’d turned on her earlier. “If that is not enough for you, I’m sure a meeting can be arranged where they can prove their loyalty to you in person. Of course,” she turns to look at Pam, “this offer extends to you as well, Your Majesty.”

With a sigh, Pam relents. “Very well. We will meet again tomorrow to discuss the details of this meeting.” 

“Certainly, Your Majesty. It seems you’re as open-minded as you are brave.” Allura turns back to Erjun again, smile transforming into something much more pleasant. She has him backed into a corner. If he doesn’t agree to attend tomorrow's meeting, his people and the others attending this meeting will only think him bigoted and close-minded. “Will you be attending this meeting as well, Mighty Erjun?”

He grunts, gritting his teeth. Allura simply keeps smiling at him, not letting her kind facade drop even as anger simmers low in her stomach. “Of course,” Erjun grits out. “Whatever is best for my people.”

-

As soon as the door to the castle closes behind her, Allura slumps against it in relief. Lance, who has not stopped talking since they exited Pam’s hall, prattles on beside her. 

“... and when you threw his own words back in his face, that Erjun guy looked ready to reach across the table and fight you! I mean, I wouldn’t have let him, I would have shot him before that could happen. A guard always protects his queen, after all. But you just kept talking! You didn’t even look a little bit afraid! That’s-”

Allura reaches out and places a finger against his lips. Lance immediately falls silent, a blush forming in his cheeks. “I was terrified the whole time, Lance.”

“Really?” Lance asks, the word forming against Allura’s finger. She quickly draws her hand back. 

Too exhausted to give a proper response, Allura simply nods before closing her eyes and leaning her head against the door. Political talk always exhausts her so - it has ever since she was young and sitting in on King Alfor’s meetings or getting lessons from Coran. The fear and nervousness she felt during this meeting only serve to make her even more exhausted. 

From somewhere beside her, Coran chuckles. “You of all people should know how easy it is to hide behind a mask of confidence, Lance.” The next time he speaks, his voice is much closer. He sounds like he’s smiling. “I must say, P- Queen Allura, you handled this particularly well. I’m sure your father would be proud.”

A hand touches Allura’s arm. When she opens her eyes, Coran is beside her, holding onto her to keep her steady. “Come along, Your Majesty. You should get some rest.”

“Yes,” Allura agrees, feeling like she’s about to collaps. Coran guides her a little ways down the hallway before she halts, rather suddenly. “Lance?” She turns around to look at him. Lance hasn’t moved, looking after them as they leave. Allura smiles a tired smile at him. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> so hey why actually does everybody still call allura princess?? i dont understand


End file.
